


Tonight I Feel Like Neon Gold

by zanzibar



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanzibar/pseuds/zanzibar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan isn't spoiled, but it's been a long time since a 500 mile road trip involved wheels instead of wings.</p><p>In which Ebs can't sleep and Hallsy offers some assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight I Feel Like Neon Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This . . . has no redeeming value and was borne based on 4 years of co-ed cross-country team bus rides.
> 
> I'm a little freaked out that this is almost 3,000 words and is basically blow-jobs. Please be gentle :)
> 
> Title shamelessly stolen from Marina and the Diamonds ~ Radioactive.

Jordan knows he's lucky. His mom has always talked about counting your blessings one by one, and he certainly doesn't dedicate a lot of time to like writing in his journal about how amazing his life is or anything, but he's definitely aware that he's lucky.

Playing for the OKC is kind of crazy. He wasn't lying when he said he was happy to be in a place where he has the opportunity to develop his game. He's a simple guy, give him some ice, some teammates and the opportunity to crash the nets and he's happy.

But still. It's totally surreal. In Edmonton they draw something like 17,000 fans average. In OKC the average is 3,000. He's used to relying on hours of practice and knowledge of his teammates to know where to find them on the ice, even on game night the Cox Center is sometimes quiet enough he can pick out the rhythm of their skates against the ice, he recognizes Ryan's steady breaths as they slide across the blue line. 

There's crazy stuff too, the Barons mascot is a mountain lion inexplicably named Derrick - Jordan is from what he seriously thought was the flattest place on earth, but OKC gives that definition a run for the money, and he'd seriously give up KD for a month if there are any real-live mountain lions within a 100 mile radius of the Cox Center. The Baron radio guys have a gmail account that they take comments on during the game, there are figure skaters during intermission and they give away a car every Saturday night. He and Ryan and Taylor sit every third game like they're some kind of precious commodity and all it really accomplishes is as soon as he starts to pick up the rhythm of the game he's out of it for a night. 

But there's mostly the awesome stuff. The average temperature in October was 70 and the average in November is supposedly going to be in the sixties. There's acres of ice to skate through and none of the guys have been around for so long that they think they're entitled to anything, on or off the ice. It’s really just a bunch of guys skating their asses off every day in practice trying to make it. 

They're hardly celebrities around town and he can go to the grocery store in sweats and a beanie and not worry about ending up on Deadspin or something. Ryan and Tubes and Shultzy are all here, so he gets to shout "The Nuge is huge" at random intervals and watch Ryan try not to kill himself with embarrassment.

And there's Taylor. Jordan sometimes thinks he could survive almost anything as long as there was the guarantee of having Hallsy by his side.

Taylor comes to OKC in October. He does his therapy and skates no contact and lounges on the couch like a lazy ass. But at the end of October he flies back to Edmonton and gets the green light to actually play. 

Jordan’s not a romantic guy but it seriously feels like the missing piece of the puzzle clicks into place when he can look across the locker room and watch Taylor’s familiar pregame routine. When Hallsy stuffs the net 40 seconds into his first game back and Jordan follows it 40-some seconds later he's so happy he feels like his skates barely touch the ice the rest of the game.

On the subject of crazy stuff, after their Saturday night dance with the Aeros Jordan finds himself showering off OT and a shoot-out worth of game grime and forgoing his game-day suit in favor of a worn pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that’s big enough that it probably started it’s life belonging to Taylor. In the deserted parking lot of the Cox Center they load all their gear and their weary selves onto a bus for the 8 and a half-ish hour ride to San Antonio. Jordan isn't spoiled, but it's been a long time since a 500 mile road trip involved wheels instead of wings.

The bus ride starts out rowdy, despite their loss earlier in the night they’re still a bunch of twenty-something guys who spend almost all their time together. So they dedicate themselves to an hour of progressively more disgusting youtube videos and various chirping about everyone’s lack of skills. But when the bus driver turns the lights off people pretty quickly devolve into sleeping. 

It turns out that Jordan may not be spoiled but he has seriously lost any skill he previously had for sleeping on a bus. 

Taylor's sacked out under a blanket across the aisle from him, folded into a pretzel that looks seriously uncomfortable, but Jordan would take uncomfortable if it meant he wasn't awake right now. The Nuge is behind him curled into his seat with Netflix if the blue glow is any clue. Jordan stretches his legs into the aisle and crosses his arms across his chest, he takes his socks off and pillows his head against the cold glass of the window. He shoves his pillow into the corner, drapes his legs over the armrest and burrows his head back into his hood.

He sits up like a shot when a warm and familiar hand wraps around his calf.

"Why aren't you sleeping," Taylor slides into the seat next to him. The combination of circus style sleeping plus condensation from the window and leftover gel means Hallsy's rocking some pretty epic bedhead and Jordan can't help but knock their shoulders together and rest his head against the warm and familiar bicep.

"Can't," he rubs his cheek rhythmically against the worn cotton and blows out a frustrated sigh. "I can't get comfortable, can't relax, miss my bed, wish I'd scored my shootout goal, wish we could figure out how to stop giving it all up in the third period."

"You need to stop worrying so much," Taylor rests his cheek against the top of Jordan's hooded head and Jordan absolutely does not sag more fully against Taylor’s warm body. 

He’s just starting to consider closing his eyes just for second when Taylor jostles his head off his shoulder. “Hallsy,” he’s not ashamed of how whiney his voice sounds. “I was comfortable.”

"Don’t pout Ebby,” Taylor’s grin winks through the darkness. “I’ll be back in a sec," he stands in the aisle and digs in the overhead compartment for his backpack before turning and handing his iPad to Jordan.

Jordan looks momentarily confused until Taylor turns again and dumps an armful of bedding in the vacant seat.

"Jesus Hallsy did you bring your entire bed with you?"

"I get cold!" Taylor hisses, "and be nice to me, I could be over there with my two pillows and my warm and snuggly comforter sleeping while you're over here pouting about the sun and the moon and the stars and your inability to hoist an entire AHL team onto your back."

"But that's not what you're going to do right," Jordan quirks a grin.

"Right," Taylor smiles softly back.

Taylor shoves Jordan into the seat closest to the aisle and stacks all the bedding on his lap. He picks the pillows off the top of the stack and arranges them so he's leaning against a pile of pillows against the window. Then he maneuvers Jordan so that he’s cradled between Taylor's legs resting back against his chest. Finally he balances the iPad so that the light from the movie is mostly shining on them and out the window.

All in all Jordan’s pretty freaking impressed. He’s warm, he’s comfortable, he’s with Taylor. 8 hour bus ride or not, things are definitely looking up. He presses a quick kiss against the underside of Taylor’s jaw and settles back to watch the movie.

By the time the movie is half over, Jordan’s happy he picked something they’ve already seen because he’s basically cuddled against Taylor’s chest, eyes drooping, drifting between awake and half asleep. Taylor’s got an arm wrapped around his waist and he smells like laundry detergent and home and the cologne that he only ever remembers to wear on game day. He's warm and solid and Jordan loves him so, so much.

The movie ends and Taylor tosses the iPad onto the vacant seat across from them and drops a light kiss on side of Jordan’s neck.

If the snores around them are any indication most of the bus is sleeping. Jordan laces his fingers with Taylor’s hand on his hip and hopes that Taylor isn’t going to think that he can go back to his own bed. He’s settling more fully against the wall of chest behind him when Taylor’s free hand tucks under the blanket as well and slides under the waistband of Jordan’s sweats.

“We are,” Jordan gasps when Taylor squeezes the head of his dick, just shy of too tight and starts moving his hand minutely back and forth, “we are on a bus, Hallsy, with other people.” 

Jordan draws a deep breath for strength, because seriously, it’s late and he’s tired and turned on and his crazy hot boyfriend has his hand on his dick. Seriously, saying no is the grown-up thing to do and he is not happy to be a grown up-right now.

“Stop thinking,” Taylor nips at Jordan's neck, “it’s late, everyone else is asleep and you and I both know this will help you sleep. And you play like shit when you don’t sleep.”

Taylor's hand stops and Jordan arches against him, body betraying his grown-up intentions

“Let me help you Ebby,” it’s the quiet request more than anything that causes Jordan to cave. Because good or bad, grown up or not, if Hallsy's actually going to ask for something Jordan isn't going to deny him.

Sensing his acquiesce Taylor presses his thumb against the sensitive spot just under the head and Jordan focuses on keeping his hips at least mostly on the cushioned bus seat.

The problem with living with someone and playing on a line with them and practicing with them and falling asleep in shared hotel rooms together for entire NHL seasons, is that Taylor knows exactly which of Jordan's buttons to push. So Taylor's sinking his teeth into the cotton of Jordan's hoodie and the skin beneath - the skin Jordan knows already bears the shape of Taylor's mouth, because last night Taylor scored and he scored and that means they both scored once they were home after post-game beers and bonding with the rest of the team.

Taylor's hand is huge and hot and perfect wrapped tightly around Jordan's dick and his dick is a hot hard line against Jordan’s back. And Jordan’s just going to straight lose his mind when Taylor pulls back from his shoulder to murmur in his ear, low and rumbling and the perfect combination of totally dirty and totally familiar. "Come on Ebby, just like that babe, just fucking like that, so fucking good Ebby you're so fucking good."

Jordan tries to bite down on the moan, god knows he's about 12 seconds from exploding and certainly not in control of any of his higher brain function right now, but he does have brains enough to remember that noise is a bad idea. He just doesn't have enough brain power to actually act on the knowledge.

"You have to be quiet," Taylor nips at his earlobe and Jordan knows he's right. Everyone who matters in OKC knows exactly what their relationship is. But that doesn't mean they're advertising either. But seriously, when Taylor slides out from behind him and ducks under the blanket Jordan can almost give up completely on caring. He's not even going to live through this.

Luckily [or unluckily because seriously have you seen Hallsy's mouth] between Taylor's hands and the knowledge that they could get caught at any second he's already skating on the edge of orgasm. Taylor shoves his pants further down and swipes his tongue up one side of his dick and down the other. 

Jordan has half a second to focus on Taylor's fingers gripping his hips before Hallsy shoves his mouth as far down on Jordan' dick as he can and he's just plain fucking done. He has just enough forethought to tap twice on the back of Taylor's neck and he's seriously, teeth-clenching, hit by a train, fingernails digging into palms, coming like a ton of bricks.

Hallsy slides up his body like they have all the time in the world and he didn't just completely blow Jordan's mind. His insane hair appears from under the blanket and his mouth is grinning slyly like the cat who swallowed the canary and Jordan can't help but shove him back against the seat and wrap his own fingers against the warm flesh of Taylor's dick.

Jordan can imagine the flush painting Hallsy's cheeks, familiarity pays off for him too and he takes a minute to be smug in the knowledge that Taylor's already pretty close to the edge.

He ducks under the blanket himself this time. Because logistically they have hours left on this bus, and soaked sweatpants aren't going to help anyone sleep.

He wants to take his time, he rests his cheek against Taylor's warm thigh and thinks about it. Because he's already gotten an orgasm out of the deal, and because he knows that Taylor gets off on denial just as much as he does. Plus it's late and he is definitely a fan of lazy long blowjobs and falling asleep wrapped up together. Unfortunately he’s ducked under a blanket, kneeling on the cold rubber floor of a bus full of hockey players and coaches headed for San Antonio and now is probably not the right time for long and slow. 

He mouths at the leaking head of Taylor’s dick, slowly tonguing the slit and resting his hands on the inside of his thighs. When Taylor reaches down to rest a hand in his hair he bumps his head against the hand until it twists in his hair. 

He swirls his tongue around the crown like it's an ice cream cone and yes, he's a total bastard, but the way Taylor eats ice cream means that he can't even walk through the freezer section at the grocery store without getting hard anymore, so even short-lived payback is worth it.

Taylor's hips are shifting restlessly against the weight of Jordan's hands and fuck Jordan wishes they were somewhere else, anywhere but here, somewhere where he could tease Taylor until he's gasping, until his voice goes dry with moaning and coherent begging devolves into a steady stream of how much he loves Ebs' hands and his mouth and "yes, right there, please Ebby please you have to." Instead he settles for sliding a hand back to press a finger against the flat skin behind his balls and pressing his fingers tight when Taylor's hips jump again.

And Jordan just goes for it. He wraps his hand around the base and slides his mouth as far down as he can go on Taylor's cock, hollowing his cheeks and sucking for all he's worth.

He pulls off for just a second, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of Taylor’s tight and trying to ignore his own valiantly twitching dick. Drawing a deep breath before diving back down and working up a quick and consistent rhythm.

Too soon Taylor tugs his hair twice and Jordan takes him deep one more time before his dick swells improbably harder and come pools on the back of Jordan’s tongue.

Taylor knots his hands in Jordan's hair and pulls him up and off the floor and then Jordan's smashing their lips together and doing his level best to lick so deep into Taylor's mouth that he can't tell where the taste of him begins and where the taste of Hallsy begins.

They curl up together, Jordan wraps both his arms around Taylor's arm and presses a soft kiss against his shoulder. Taylor presses a kiss against the top of Jordan's head before resting his head against the top of Jordan's. 

"Love you Ebby,"

"Love you," Jordan rubs his nose against the edge of Taylor's tshirt and closes his eyes.

He doesn't have any trouble falling asleep.


End file.
